A Dragon's Ire
by one-fili-to-rule-them-all
Summary: Dwarves value their hard-earned treasure; dragons have a habit of stealing it—such is the root of their age-old conflict. Now, a human with fire in her veins has been called to the Quest of Erebor, but she comes with a motive of her own. Will the dragon aid the dwarves in their quest to reclaim their home or will she lead them to their downfall before their journey's end?


**Chapter 5 Dragon-spells**

"_The secret of success in battle lies often not so much in the use of one's own strength but in the exploitation of the other side's weaknesses_."  
― John Christopher

A nice pickle they were all in now, all tied up in sacks while the trolls argued whether to roast them slowly, or mince them and boil them, or just sit on them one by one and squash them into jelly. From where Syl stood, she could smell the foul stench of the sacks, and knowing the dwarves' noses must be suffering from that suffocating stench made her satisfyingly happy.

Syl leaned on a tree and crossed her arms, simply watching as the trolls continued their dialogue. She was waiting for Bilbo to call her for help—one that he needed to do soon if he wanted to live, but it seems that the hobbit was either too stupid or too stubborn to call for her. Tired of waiting, she drew her sword, ready to join the fray and slay the trolls.

"Wait!" Bilbo piped, causing Syl to almost stumble amongst the shrubs. "You are making a terrible mistake!"

Syl felt her jaw slack from the hobbit's bravery—and stupidity. One tiny hobbit against three large mountain trolls. She said to herself, "It looks like you are the one making the terrible mistake, you little blighter!"

One of the trolls asked, "You what?"

"I-I meant with the…uh, with the…with the seasoning!" Bilbo spluttered.

"What?" Syl mouthed, her face scrunching up in confusion. It wasn't a high-time to talk about seasoning now, was it? "What are you doing, you fool of a hob—_Oh_." She stopped, realizing what he was doing—"He's stalling them. The little hobbit is smarter than I thought!"

"What about the seasoning?" Bert asked curiously.

"Well, have you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up!" Bilbo spat, his statement angering the dwarves and amusing Syl profusely. It was partially true, anyway.

William eyed Bilbo suspiciously, "What do you know about cooking dwarf?"

"Shut up and let the…uh, flurgerburbur-hobbit talk!"

"Uh…t-the secret to cooking dwarves, is um…" Bilbo hesitated. He still was unsure of what to say since he knew nothing about cooking dwarves.

"Yes? come on!" Egged Bert.

"It's uh—"

As if Bert's egging wasn't enough, William began urging Bilbo, too. "Tell us the secret!"

"Ye-yes, I'm telling you. The secret to cooking dwarf is to…" Bilbo tripped over his tongue and said the first thing that came to his mind, "skin them first!"

"Oh! Good elephants, this is precious!" Syl rolled her head back, laughing quietly at Bilbo's insinuations. "Should I even interrupt this golden conversation?"

"Of course, you should!" Gandalf came into her upturned view, his thick eyebrows furrowed together, and scolded her, "If you were careful enough, none of this would have happened! I expected more from you!"

Syl rolled her eyes, irritated by the wizard's accusations. "Don't blame for the foolishness of your dwarvish friends! I warned him of the danger I sensed in this forest but he did not listen!"

"Where are you going?!" Syl asked as Gandalf grunted angrily and walked past her. She followed the wizard, striding beside him.

"To help them!"

Syl blocked the wizard's way, "Halt, do nothing for now. I want to see this hobbit's capabilities. You told me he was right for the job, tis the time to prove your words, Gandalf."

"No. This is not the time, Syl!"

"I say otherwise. He is doing an excellent job. If you continually feed him his worms, he will never fly far from the nest. If worse comes to worse, I can take them down with Morëninque."

"Why do you still hold those cursed blades?" Gandalf eyed the strapped swords behind her. "I told you—"

"You think I don't know what yer up to?!" A troll bellowed. "This ferret is taking us for fools!"

"I believe it is time for us to help them." Syl turned to Gandalf and smirked, "You go do your thing, and I'll do mine."

* * *

Bilbo was out of ideas, and judging from the angry looks the trolls were giving him, his time was running short. But when all hope seems lost, he heard someone whistling a merry tune—quite inappropriate for his current situation. He searched for the source of this melody and found it walking towards him.

"Hello," Syl smiled as she stood beside him. "I was waiting for you to call me, but you surprised me, doing what you did."

"Oy, who are yer?!" said Bert.

Bilbo asked worriedly, "Syl, what are you doing?"

"I am praising you, little fellow! You've done well, stalling for time like that!"

William opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Syl spoke.

"_Hoshat, ologri_!" Bilbo wondered what language she spoke. Never had he heard such an ugly language in his life. It sounded harsh and guttural, like thunder rolling on her tongue. "Do not dare interrupt me when I speak."

The trolls fell silent, completely falling under her hypnotic spell—a spell all dragons possessed, to control the minds of other beings. She turned to them and smiled wickedly, her eyes gleamed like bright burning gold and her once round pupils became slit-like, like a cat's. "I wish not to be rude, good evening. I came here to rescue my friend from you and those idiots in sacks. I have another friend here with me, who likes to be _grand _in his appearances."

"Where is this friend of yer, woman?" William asked angrily.

At that moment, the light came over the hill, and there was a mighty twitter in the branches. Gandalf appeared behind a tree, his voice booming as he spoke, "Dawn will take you all, and be stone to you!"

William never spoke again for he turned to stone as he stooped, and Tom and Bert became stuck looking at him.

"I told you he liked to be grand." Syl smiled and knelt down by Bilbo, untying his bindings. "You are one courageous bugger, Bilbo Baggins. I think you might survive this quest, after all."

"Excellent work!" said Gandalf as he stepped from behind a tree and approached Syl and Bilbo with a smile. He noticed the purplish bruise on Syl's cheek and asked curiously, "What on earth happened to your cheek?"

"Someone decided to punch me with his ring on." She merely shrugged. Then, she caught a scent—of forests and flowers, a bit of miruvor—and sniffed once, twice. "You smell like elves. Did you—"

"Why don't we help the others out of the sacks?" Gandalf coughed, cutting Syl off. "I am sure they find it uncomfortable."

"Can't we just leave them like that? I find it much more convenient."

"No."

"Just a little more while, like forever?"

"No."

"A hundred—"

"Not another word, Syl. Not another word." Gandalf warned her, glaringly.

With a sigh, she pulled out a dagger and found the nearest sack, slashing it open and cutting the ropes scathingly. It did not please the dwarves, but once they saw their liberator, their anger was momentarily subdued by confusion—except Fili and Kili, for they already knew who she was. She freed Dwalin and Balin, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and Fili and Kili. The next sack proved to be more trouble than the others since it kept squirming and twisting about. She punched it lightly—by her dragonish standard, that is. It groaned painfully and let out a string of dwarvish curses. If only this voice did not belong to Thorin, Syl would have thought it pleasant.

She pulled the sack down, only to reveal a scowling dwarf—greatly irritated by being in a nasty-smelling sack and being punched in the gut. Thinking it was that man who loved to cause trouble, Thorin shouted angrily. "You! You punched—"

Thorin stopped, eyes widening in astonishment as he finally looked at his liberator. Instead of a man, kneeling before him was a woman—with hair like mithril, and features ethereal and elfin-like that could demand any man's attention and adoration. Her beauty was like the sun, that brings light and color to her surroundings as if it was her canvas and she, the artist. But it was her eyes that enthralled him, for like molten gold they were, fashioned into orbs full of senescence and youth.

She rolled her eyes and exhaled angrily, "You kept wriggling like a were-worm. What was I supposed to do?"

"You could have told me to stay still!" He retorted as she cut through his bindings. "Who are you?!"

"Oh, really? You do not recognize the bruise on my cheek? You just landed that one yesterday." Syl smiled and stood abruptly, leaving him to process what she just said. She found Bilbo soon after, who began relaying to her how scared he was that he'd be eaten by the trolls. Once the dwarves had all gotten out of their sacks, they had Bilbo account what happened to him twice before they even believed him. They looked greatly annoyed—who would not be, if you were stuck in a sack while three trolls argued on how to cook them?

"You!" Thorin shouted angrily, finally realizing Syl's identity. "Before my patience runs thin, I rather have you explain why you hid the fact you were a woman!"

"It took you _that_ long to realize who I was? Wow. You are stupider than that I thought."

"EXPLAIN! NOW!"

"What is there to explain? Gender does not make any difference so long as you do your job properly." She turned to him, smiling sarcastically. "Nobody is angry that you dwarves braid your hairs and beards like girls, is there?"

"It makes a grand difference! A woman cannot defend herself in the wild and it is improper for a lady to do so!"

"Oh, is that why you got captured and outwitted so easily by dumb trolls? You are welcome to prove your theory or die trying." She taunted him, like a dragon would—drawing their enemies with words, destroying them from inside out by corrupting their hearts and minds. "Beware, _princess, _you do not know who you are messing with."

"And I will prove to you that nothing comes from taunting a dwarf-lord!"

It was a good thing that Gandalf came and stopped them before they could draw their blades. "What is it with you two, always arguing and fighting?! I will have none of this!"—he turned to Syl angrily and scolded her—"Stop picking fights! You are no longer a child!"—then to Thorin—"And you, how much more do I have to assure you that Syl is right for this job! My mouth is running dry with you two!"

"She is not welcomed in this quest!" Thorin argued. "What she did earlier, I cannot forgive! I would not doubt if she came from a crude family! Clearly, they have no morals and—"

Thorin was rendered speechless for it was the first time a woman—or any maiden for the matter—slapped him across his face. He could taste blood in his mouth and feel the sting of her hand on his cheek. She wasted no second, sweeping him off his feet and onto his back. She drew her sword and aimed it directly above his heart, pressing it hard against his chest. "Talk ill about my family again, dwarf-filth, and I will wipe out your entire kin. I will burn your homes, your children and wives. And I will make sure that the desolation I would bring will be far, far worse than the desolation of Smaug."

"Enough!" Gandalf thundered, dragging Syl away from Thorin. They were going nowhere with these two's useless bickering and that was not at all productive. "You are wasting your time! Don't you realize that the trolls must have a cave or a hole dug somewhere near to hide from the sun? We must look into it!"

Syl gave a final glare at Thorin and walked ahead, putting a great distance between her and the dwarves. The company searched around and soon found the marks of the trolls' stony boots going away through the trees. They followed the tracks up the hill, until they came on a big stone door hidden by bushes. They pushed and pulled, and even Gandalf did some incantations here and there but still the door to the cave won't budge.

As the others were almost giving up, Bilbo fished a key from his pocket and showed it to them, "Would this be any good?"

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?!" Dwalin snarled as he brusquely approached him. However, before he could take another step, a sword quickly came and pressed against his neck.

"An inch closer and this would be lodged in your neck," she smiled menacingly. Dwalin backed away, glaring and muttering as he did. After Thorin insulted Syl's family, the tension between Syl and the dwarves worsened. And it seemed that only the wizard was keeping their company together. Gandalf sighed, not knowing what to do with his fiery friend. He grabbed the key and fitted it into the key-hole. With one bug push, the door swung open and they all went inside except for Syl. She could already smell the foulness of the cave from the outside, and to enter it would only irritate her nose.

Inside, bones cluttered the floor and a putrid smell was in the air. And there was a great deal of food carelessly jumbled on the shelves and the floor, and among the clutter of plunder were brass buttons and pots of gold in some corners. There was a bundle of clothes too, seemingly too small for the trolls therefore must have been what was left of their former victims. Among them were good swords of various make, shape and sizes. But two had quite caught their attention, particularly because of their beautiful scabbards and jeweled hilts. Gandalf and Thorin each took one of these; and Bilbo took a knife in a leather sheath. It would have made only a tiny pocket-knife for a troll, but it was as good as a short sword for the hobbit.

"These swords are not made by any troll," Thorin drew the swords out of the pile and gave the one to Gandalf.

"Nor by any smith among men in these parts and day, these were forged in Gondolin by the High elves of the First Age," said Gandalf, half drawing the sword in his hand. Seeing Thorin's scowl, he reprimanded him, "You could not wish for a finer blade!"

"Let's get out of this foul smell!" Fili called. The others agreed and hurried outside, carrying pots of coins, all the food untouched and fit to eat, and a barrel of ale. They were exhausted and terribly hungry, not to mention irritable. They returned to their camp and prepared for breakfast, and being very hungry, they did not turn their noses up at what they salvaged from the trolls' larder. After all, their own provisions were scanty from yesterday's pony incident. Now, they had cheese and bread, plenty of ale, and bacon to toast. Once their stomachs were full with food and ale, the dwarves slept and did nothing more till the afternoon.

Whilst the dwarves slept, Gandalf ventured into the forest knowing Syl would be hunting game before nightfall. He found her, sitting and roasting pheasants by the fire, not too far from the camp. _What a lonely girl she was_, Gandalf thought sadly. _Like a bird, trapped in the cages of her own hatred and unable to fly away from her past_. He walked towards her and smiled at her, "Why are you here? You could have joined us!"

"I do not like murderous thoughts while I eat. It spoils the food."

She offered him a pheasant's leg as he sat down across from her. "I've heard from Thorin what happened when I left. I am disappointed with your actions. You have proven yourself incapable of keeping your patience and—"

"I do not care if you are disappointed or not, wizard."

"Fili and Kili were nearly drowned and you did nothing to help them! Is this true?" He asked, worried about her schemes. She had killed many dwarves before and would not hesitate on killing again, but he knew, unprovoked, she would not dare lay a hand on them while he was there. "Syl, are you trying to reduce the company until only one reaches the mountain?"

"That seems to be a good idea. But, why waste my efforts if they will all be killed in the Mountain? Their stupidity leads them to their graves! I am simply watching as the events unfold. Regarding the incident with the two dwarflings, I did wish to help them but I could not. I am not fond of water, for it is what douses a dragon's fire, and I do not know how to swim. Even if I tried to help them, I would be of no use and would only make matters worse."

"Then why did you not explain it to them? You've made all the matters worse, saying such dreadful things!"

"Do you expect me to reveal my weaknesses to my enemies?" She took a bite out of her pheasant and looked at him. "I thought you were wisest of the Istari, Gandalf the Grey."

"Enemies?! Your stubbornness is worse than Thorin's!" He sighed, knowing that patience was what he needed with her. Her resentment for dwarves ran deeper than her kin's conflict with theirs. "Syl, I have seen you aid others without expecting any reward, defend innocents, save people's lives! This hatred you carry for dwarves, it will do you no good! You may think that by hating someone, we hurt them but hatred is a curved blade. The harm we do to others, we also do to ourselves. "

Gandalf saw her pupils turn into slits, like it always did when she could not hold her anger. She closed her eyes and spoke, her voice taut. "If hatred is such a blade, then I will wield it even if my hands bleed a thousand seas. This hatred that you call poison has been the only thing that has kept me alive for these years. It is all I have now."

"If they are to fail because of you—"

"I tire of this conversation." Syl cut him off. There was no point in arguing with the wizard. Against a dragon, what could thirteen dwarves and a Halfling do? They would surely fail against Smaug. "Return to your petty friends and worry not about them for I will not lay a hand on their heads until they face Smaug nor will I let anything happen to Bilbo."

"Then it is over as we speak." Gandalf stood, sighing as he did. "Come. We must away from this place and continue on with our journey."

* * *

**A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for the follows and favorites! I am so grateful to all of you for reading this story. So...Syl and Thorin are really getting under each other's nerves. When, oh, when will they ever agree on something? :) Anyway, please tell me what you think! I would be extremely happy if you would do so. R and R! Next chapter will be up next week!**


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